


Mooring Against My Rough Sea

by iambutacoldspoononachair



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iambutacoldspoononachair/pseuds/iambutacoldspoononachair
Summary: Lance, insecure and miserable, finds himself comfort eating one night in the Castle of Lions.What he didn't expect, however, was to embark on a journey of self-acceptance, affection and eventual love.Like all good stories, this one starts with cake.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	Mooring Against My Rough Sea

**Author's Note:**

> this is for fun. if someone, somewhere finds this hidden draft and wants more then say no more.

The castle is always bright - even in the night cycle. Lance didn't like it particularly, he's heard that the sun ages your skin. He doesn't mean to be vain, he just convinces himself that it's self-care to the highest degree. 

Fighting the urge to shield his eyes from the artifical menace he lumbered into the kitchen for an uncharacteristic midnight snack. Midnight didn't really have a place on this ship, but Lance loved to carry a piece of home with him, even if it came in the shape of a piece of... luminescent space cake that Hunk had invented days prior. It would never grow to be out-of-date or moudly, according to Coran's bemused analysis that he had done out of fear for the paladins "weak human digestive systems". 

Feeling particularly uncaring after such a horrific defeat against the Galra on his behalf he sighed as he bit into his stodgy, and slightly green, snack. Sighing, he let his hand go limp and drop the cake back onto the plate, crumbs spilling everywhere.

Being in the Voltron team was exhausting, Lance thought, screwing up his eyes. One day you feel indespensible and battle-ready then the next you're a fifth wheel in an operation that only needs you to complete the set. He felt worthless, as the best of times. It had gotten worse as Shiro had gone. 

Throat tightening, Lance decided to up and leave, not wanting anyone to see him show any weakness. He threw the rest of his plate into the bin, tripped over the chair he was sitting on, and with a scowl he began to scuffle back to the kitchen door.

He was seconds away when it opened by itself. And in tumbled Keith. His body was a picture of agony, curving into the door, grabbing the frame in search of relief while the rest of his body hit the cold metal floor.

His eyes screaming Lance's name, Lance decided to jump into action.

"I need t - fight -" gurgles Keith. Lance is horrified. All over Keiths face is scars, and wounds and scars with wounds placed over. There is a piece of his red helmet embedded deep into his left cheek, poking out like a blade. His hair is singed and Lance is positive that the blood on his soft hands came from Keiths throat. 

Hands bolstering some minor wounds, Lance realises he needs to get Keith to the infirmary. 

Reaching gingerly for Keiths unwounded, but still tender torso, he pulls him up into a wobbly firemans lift. Keith gasps with the pain. 

"Where...Lance? Lance?" 

"It's okay buddy, we're going to the infirmary wing. Coran'll be able to fix you up. Stay awake now, come on." 

Lance can't quite believe it, he's scared, but he's running. 

He reached the infirmary of the ship where he had no other choice but to drop Keith's now limp body gently on the floor again while he ran to fetch Coran. Lance carefully placed Keiths arms beside him on the floor. He found Coran dozing in his private office just off the main room which was filled with every Coran-esque item Lance could've dreamed of.

He couldn't waste any time in potentially saving his team-mates life. Hesitating only for a second, he slapped Corans cheek so hard he skin ripple. Wincing, he felt his worthlessness spike up again - who was he to do that? - but it was quashed by the dire situation he found himself in. Coran woke immediately, falling off his chair. 

"What in the quiznak do you think you're doing?" He rubbed his cheek, which was quickly turning a potent shade of orange. 

"Coran, please - I need you to get up! I found Keith in agony in the halls - Get your arse up! Help him, quicky!" 

Scrambling to his feet, Coran gave Lance a dirty look which made him recoil just a little. He sprinted into the main ward and heaved Keith up onto one of the plain, neatly-made beds."Right", Coran got started, "I'll begin with pain medications, just in the rare case he can still feel it while asleep."

Coran was now feeling his forehead. Checking his pulse. Routinely and meticulously checking every bone in Keith's body for fractures.

"What the hell was he doing?" Coran asked Lance, "He's got at least ten broken bones!" Lance, meanwhile, was biting the skin off of his right thumb. 

"I - I don't know. I was in the kitchen and he just -" 

"No, I don't suppose you would know," muttered Coran. "You should get to bed. Lots of training to do tomorrow. I suppose." 

Lance, troubled at what had happened, couldn't disagree. With one last look at Keith's slack, paling face, he walked out of the infirmary and towards his bedroom. 

Walking through into his room, he feels those fucking tears coming back again. They tremble harder as he sees the picture of his mother on his dresser. 

He falls asleep cradling the picture, just as the tears begin to drop.


End file.
